


Broken Hearts, Shattered Dreams

by Im_writing_out_of_time



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Angst, But still angsty, Car Accident, F/M, Miscarriage, but honey don't do that, fuck Oak, so I changed the request a little bit, this was originally a 'cheating Oak' fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_writing_out_of_time/pseuds/Im_writing_out_of_time
Summary: Okieriete is spending less and less time at home, ignoring your phone calls and text messages, and completely skipping out on date night. Then one night, he comes home with purple lipstick on his shirt collar.





	Broken Hearts, Shattered Dreams

You had suspected he was cheating. 

You understood the late nights when Hamilton was just starting its run on broadway- the post-show rehearsals, drinking at the bar after to celebrate, late nights with the guys- but Hamilton has been running for months now. There was no reason for him to be taking so many late nights. Especially not since two were trying for a baby. Or at least, you had been until you saw a ring of purple lipstick on his shirt. 

He didn't even try to hide the lipstick. He came in and kissed you first thing after walking in the apartment you had shared for four years, and not once did he even try to hide it. 

Did he even care? Or was he purposely pushing you away? 

You had started packing little things here and there over the last week; the feminine products from the bathroom, some clothes after you cleaned them, _the positive pregnancy test_ \- the little things he wouldn't check for specifically. 

You were willing to give him one more chance. You grabbed your phone and your finger hovered over his name. Should he get one more chance? He's barely home now. He doesn't even know that you're expecting… 

You dial his number and listen to the phone ring. And ring. _And ring._

“Hey! You reached Oak. Leave a message!” His voice was bright and you remembered him recording the message; the goofy smile on his face as he poked you in the side. 

You sighed and turned your phone off before dropping it on the bed. There was a picture of you and Oak on the bedside table, smiling. It was from the night you got engaged. You removed the picture from the frame and set the picture in the drawer, the frame in the box. 

You moved to the closet you shared. You pushed all your dresses to one end and duct taped the hangers to one another before sliding a garbage bag over them. The bag landed on the bed, the garbage bag crinkling around your clothes, but you were on the move again. Clothes from the dresser got packed neatly into boxes; shirts, pants, socks and underwear, sweatshirts- they each got their own box. 

You grabbed another box and went around the house gathering your shoes. Oak’s shoes were always next to your own, dwarfing them. It was a sight you knew you'd miss. 

You were folding boxes closed and setting them by the front door as you worked. You weren't expecting anyone for another hour or so, but as you wiped yourself from the apartment, someone knocked lightly on the door. 

“(Y/N), please, I know you're in there.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. It was Renee. You unlocked the door and let her in. 

“So you're serious about this, aren't you?” She asked, looking at the boxes laying around. 

“Uh, yeah,” you said, following her gaze. “Why? Do you not want me moving in?”

“No, that's not it!” She sighed and looked at a lingering picture of you and Oak on the wall. “I just… I thought you two were perfect for each other,” she said as you snatched the photo, tearing it off its nail. “I saw the way you looked at each other, (Y/N). That's love.”

“If that's love, I don't want it.” You hustled around the apartment, picking up your things, throwing them in boxes. “I can't remember the last time I got more than a quick peck on the cheek. I don't remember when our last date night was. The last time he was home before I fell asleep. I can't think of the last time he answered my phone call the first time, or the last time he answered my texts right away- like he used to. But I do remember the first time he came home with purple lipstick on his shirt collar. I do remember all the nights I fell asleep crying because he was out doing god knows what and couldn't be bothered to call. Or text.” You sighed dejectedly as you pushed a pair of socks into a random box. “I just can't handle it anymore, Renee.” 

“Okay,” she said as she looked at the boxes by the door. 

“Can you see what's in that box for me?” You asked her, gesturing to a box on the kitchen counter. 

She rummaged through, listing things until she stopped abruptly. “(Y/N), what's this?” 

A purple and white pregnancy test was in her hands. 

Your heart dropped. “It's nothing.” 

“Does Oak know?” 

You couldn't speak, afraid of the tears welling behind your eyes as you snatched the test from her hands and held it close to you. You shook your head slowly. “He's never home,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I never got the chance.”

You stole a glance at the test in your hands, two lines still prominent on its face, Renee wrapping her arms around you. “Honey, you have to tell him. It's his baby. He deserves to know.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I've been trying for a whole month. He's never here. Plus, he's cheating on me. He doesn't want me anyway and he definitely won't want a baby.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” she said, her voice filled with pity. “I can tell him if you want.” 

“I should tell him,” you said back, your voice lacking its usual brightness. “I just don't know how. I was going to leave a test on the counter when we left. That way he'd know, and I wouldn't have to tell him to his face.” Tears began to trail down your cheeks and your voice wavered. “His stupid, beautiful face.” 

“You still love him, (Y/N). Confront him.” 

“I can't confront someone I never see. And he doesn't answer my calls or texts until after the fact, and by then I'm so discouraged that I don't want to say anything to him. I just want my Oak back. My Oak,” you said, sliding to the floor. Your body shook with every sob. 

You could hear someone knocking on the door, but you didn't move. Renee moved to the door and looked through the peephole. “It's the moving service. Do you want me to let him in?” 

You nodded, the tears still streaming from your eyes. “I'm gonna go clean up. These boxes all have to go.” You wobbled to your feet and walked to the bathroom, wiping at the tears on your face. How could your life have gone so wrong? 

You cleaned up and walked back to the living room, the door wide open and all your boxes gone. How long had you been in the bathroom…?

A note was on the counter, Renee’s small handwriting sprawling across the page. 

_(Y/N),_  
I went with the delivery driver to my apartment.  
I'll come back for you once we get everything unloaded.  
Love you, girlie, Renee. 

Renee had already left. 

You grabbed your phone and texted her. _I'm grabbing a cab to your place. See you soon._ Swiping your keys, you removed the apartment key from your lanyard and set it on the counter, staring around the apartment for a moment before turning around and walking out. 

It was fairly easy, for once, to hail a cab. You climbed in the back and told the driver Renee’s address before sitting back and staring out the window. You watched as strangers walked by, living their lives, until you saw a person you recognized. 

Oak. 

He was sitting outside a cafe at a table on the corner. Your cab pulled to a stop beneath a stoplight and you watched him talking to a beautiful woman- one you had never seen before. You didn't know what he was talking about, but his eyes were bright, his movements animated, a bright smile on his face. 

You couldn't help the tears that streamed down your face and the ache that hollowed your chest. 

“You alright, miss?”

You stared out the window. “Yeah. Just mourning a lost relationship.” 

He nodded before pulling slowly into the intersection as the light turned green. You were only halfway to Renee’s house when the sound of a speeding car and clanking metal filled the air. Your cab was upside down. Your driver was speaking rapid fire Spanish. He wrestled with his seat belt clip. 

You had been thrown around the car. Everything hurt. Your vision was spinning and everything went black. 

* * *

You were in a hospital bed, curled up on your side. Everything hurt and your head was screaming in pain. The hospital gown was too big, wrapping around your body. The blanket covering you was thin, barely keeping you warm. The lights had been dimmed and a soft glow barely filled the room. 

The door clicked closed behind someone as they walked in. “Hey baby, how ya feeling?” 

You stayed silent. Oak was the last person you wanted to see. You could feel him moving around the bed to come sit by your face as he positioned his body between you and the darkened windows. Your head was pounding harder and you wanted to vomit. 

“Baby talk to me. I need to know how you're doing?”

“How I'm doing, Okieriete? I'm shit. I'm feeling like shit. Okay? Now leave me alone!” You turned your aching body away from him and stared at the bathroom door, the light escaping from underneath unnecessarily bright. 

“Baby-”

“I’m not your baby,” you spat. 

“(Y/N),” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What's going on with you? Let me in so I can help you.” He set his hands on your shoulders and began massaging your tense, aching muscles. “I'm sorry I've been so busy lately baby doll. I promise I'll make it up to you.” 

The door opened gently and the doctor walked in. “Ms (L/N), let me offer my sincerest condolences for your loss. I'm Dr Mahler and I'll be assisting you during your stay here. I know the doctor who attended to you downstairs told you about what's happened and what's going to happen, but do you have any questions for me?”

You shook your head, still staring at the bathroom door, as Oak’s voice sounded in your ear. “Loss? (Y/N), what's he talking about? Who died? What's going on?” 

“Ms (L/N), do you want me to fill him in?” 

You shrugged, tears filling your vision. “I don't want to talk to him,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. You took a shuddering breath that ripped pain through every part of you. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Oak’s grip tightened on your hand. The doctor’s voice sounded like the teacher from Charlie Brown. A faint “baby?” 

You were pulled back to the conversation when you could feel Oak staring at you. “(Y/N), what's he talking about?” 

“Nothing, obviously,” you spat. “Didn't you hear him? Loss. That means it's gone.” Your voice was filled with nothing but venom dripping from every word. 

“(Y/N), baby, why are you being like this? Why didn't you tell me?”

You whipped around, your body screaming with every movement. “When was I supposed to tell you?! You're never fucking home anymore! You're off with god knows who doing god knows fucking what, when was I supposed to tell you?!” Your voice was screaming louder than your body. 

“(Y/N), I-”

“No,” you said, voice low and emotionless. “This is all your fault.” 

“(Y/N).” 

“If you would have been home, instead of out fucking whoever at all ends of the day, I wouldn't have been moving out. I wouldn't have been leaving. I wouldn't have even been in that fucking cab on that street corner watching you with that whore- smiling, laughing. So this is all your fault Okieriete. It's all. Your. Fault.” 

“I wasn't fucking anyone else, (Y/N). What the hell? Why would you think that?” 

“Okay, I think I should leave,” said the doctor as he shuffled out the door. 

“What am I supposed to think when you're gone all the fucking time? I've seen you for a total of five hours in the last three months. Five hours, Okieriete. In three months. I’ve washed lipstick from your shirts. Purple lipstick. It's a hell of a lot different than the “no lipstick” or nude lip looks I've been sporting for pretty much our entire relationship.” 

Oak laughed slightly, tears welling in his eyes. “After that night at the bar, right?” 

“I don't see what's funny about that.”

“It was Daveed, baby. The purple lipstick, it was all Daveed. Oh god,” he chuckled slightly, nervously. “I didn't even think about explaining that. Oh god, I'm so sorry, (Y/N).” He started sobbing, his head resting on your lap. “I'm so sorry. I broke your trust. I'm so sorry I haven't been home.” 

“I accept your apology but I don't forgive you.” 

“(Y/N)?” His head sat up slowly, his dark hands holding onto your petite right hand. 

“It doesn't account for all the time you've been gone. All the times I called or texted you and you didn't answer until hours later. You were always gone before I woke up and I was asleep before you came home. You say you weren't cheating but I don't know if I can believe you. I've spent so much time alone. I can't do it anymore.” 

“I was building us a house, (Y/N). The house we've always dreamed of.”

“I'm moving in with Renee. Leave me alone. I'll call you if I decide to go back. This isn't a break up. Yet. But I need to continue this whole aloneness I've had for five months.” You yanked your hand from his and turned back onto your side. Your head was throbbing harder than ever. The medications to help assist with your miscarriage were kicking in and cramps shuddered through your core. 

“(Y/N), please,” he sobbed. 

“Goodbye Okieriete.”

**Author's Note:**

> Creep me on tumblr.com 
> 
> @im-writing-out-of-time


End file.
